


A Man of Letters, In A Place Like This

by WednesdayGilfillian



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Book Nerds Flirting, Bookmobiles!, F/M, Fluff, Music Man AU, Rivals to Lovers, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14556027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayGilfillian/pseuds/WednesdayGilfillian
Summary: Jacques Snicket is sent to Prufrock Prep, to watch over the Quagmires and Baudelaires. He's undercover, and everything is running smoothly...until he meets the school librarian.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, you may have noticed this is tagged 'Music Man AU'... If you've seen 'The Music Man' you'll get the parallels, but it really doesn't matter. I hope you enjoy!

The road to Prufrock Preparatory School was lonely, dull, and desolate. This was no great trial to Jacques Snicket, who was used to driving interminably long distances with no company save for that of his own thoughts. It was not the desolateness of the road, but something else entirely that was bothering him. The receiver tucked against his ear crackled, and his sister’s voice broke the temporary silence.

“You’re missing your taxi, aren’t you?”  
Jacques sighed.  
“Of course I am. And more than that, I…I have reservations about this mission.”  
“You have reservations about infiltrating Prufrock Prep to watch over five kind and brilliant orphans?”  
Jacques frowned.  
“No, I’m glad to do that, of course. But my cover…it feels weak. Prufrock Prep _has_ a librarian already.”  
“But it doesn’t have a _bookmobile_ ,” returned Kit. “Or membership to an elite, exclusive, travelling subscription library. Honestly, you worry too much. Give anything a veneer of snobbery and the Vice Principal will be all over it! Even reading.”

Jacques smiled wryly, keeping his eyes on the road.  
“Anyway,” said Kit, “we had the bookmobile lying around.”  
There was silence again for a moment.

“And look, if the librarian there gives you any trouble…well, you might just have to turn on a bit of the old Snicket charm.”  
Jacques blinked.  
“…Excuse me?”  
“Don’t be obtuse, Jacques. We’ve all done it! Strategic Flirting 101.”  
He shifted uncomfortably. “It’s…not really my style.”  
Kit huffed. “Well, you’ll just have to get past that, _if_ the librarian poses a problem. Anyway, your main objective is to watch over the Baudelaires and the Quagmires. And see if you can’t get on Vice Principal Nero’s good side.”  
“I wasn’t aware he had one.”  
Kit snorted.

“Well, keep me informed. I’m only ever a phone call away.”  
“Will do. Take care of my taxi. And if, when I get it back, the Complete Works of Robert Frost are mysteriously missing from the trunk-”  
“Oh, I’ll put everything back where I found it, don’t you worry.”  
Jacques smiled into the receiver. “Till next time, then, Kit.”  
“Till next time.”

She hung up. Jacques took a deep breath, as the bookmobile sped on towards Prufrock Preparatory School.

\--

Olivia Caliban checked her watch. She had six more minutes before she had to close the library, and eleven minutes before her presence was required at Vice Principal Nero’s latest mandatory pep rally. She sighed, and went to select herself a book.

Not one student had set foot in her library that day. Or the day before. The Quagmires and the Baudelaires had managed a brief visit on the Monday, and that had been an absolute delight…but their timetables didn’t always match up with her absurdly-limited opening hours. And when they did, Olivia only wished she had more to offer them.

When she had taken the job, Olivia had imagined that she would have _some_ kind of a budget, with which to make acquisitions and to keep the library in good working order. But she had been sorely mistaken. Vice Principal Nero’s priorities lay in another direction entirely, and so she and her books languished unregarded. It was…disheartening, to say the least.

Settling on a volume of poetry for her pep rally reading, Olivia gathered up her keys and coat. _Once more unto the breach…_ she thought to herself, miserably.

\--

Jacques was amazed; it was all running so smoothly. He had parked the bookmobile outside the school gate, got past the advanced computer system checking for Count Olaf, and located Vice Principal Nero’s office without much trouble. He had been about to knock when the door had swung open, and Nero himself stepped into the hall. The Vice Principal was in a rush, on his way to lead a mandatory pep rally, but listened as Jacques gave his pitch.

“Exclusive membership cards, you say?”  
Nero’s eyes were glittering.  
“Platinum ones, with gilt edging,” Jacques continued, loathing the man more every second.  
“Hmm, hmm…interesting… And the cost of subscription is…?”  
“Absorbed by wealthy benefactors,” Jacques replied promptly. “Some of whom have ties to the Julliard School of Music.”  
Nero’s eyes gleamed brighter.  
“All we ask in return is that fine institutions such as Prufrock Preparatory School support our venture by becoming part of our very select membership.”

They were nearing the athletic field now, joining a stream of students all headed in the same direction. Jacques hoped he might catch a glimpse of the Quagmires or the Baudelaires.

“Well,” smiled Nero, “that all sounds excellent. Why don’t you take the opportunity to introduce yourself and your product during the pep rally?”  
_Product_ , groaned Jacques inwardly. _A library is not a product. It’s an institution, a pillar of society!_

They were making their way to the front of the assembled crowd, Nero looking around eagerly to see that everybody was in attendance. Halfway down the aisle, he paused.  
“Oh, I suppose you ought to meet… Miss Caliban here is our school librarian.”

Jacques turned to follow Nero’s gaze…and a moment later felt his mouth drop open. Sitting on the aisle, apparently absorbed in reading a volume of poetry, was a woman in a sunshine-yellow blouse. She was beautiful.

On hearing her name, she looked up. Nero smiled down at her self-importantly.  
“Miss Caliban, this is… What did you say your name was?”  
“…Jacques Snicket.”

He blinked. He had _not_ been supposed to say that. He was supposed to be using an alias.  
_You idiot!_

“Jacques Snicket,” Nero repeated, “who is here to offer us membership to a very exclusive club. Now Mr. Snicket, come and stand here at the front with me…”

Jacques smiled apologetically over his shoulder as Nero ushered him abruptly away. And as Miss Caliban looked him over with curiosity and just the faintest glimmer of distrust, Jacques began to worry that this mission might not be running so smoothly after all.

\--

Olivia watched in silent, mounting fury as Jacques Snicket sold his subscription library to Prufrock Prep’s eager and credulous crowd. He was a good salesman, she’d give him that. He was…charismatic. But for the staff and students to lap it up, while her own library was so neglected! It was infuriating.

And what was more, Olivia had never _heard_ of the Vehicular Fiction Delivery travelling library. She was still in contact with a number of classmates from her days studying library science, and she had never heard them mention it either. She’d never seen it profiled in any industry publications. It was…odd.

 _I’m not being petty_ , she told herself, as she mentally drafted a letter to one of her colleagues. _I’m being thorough_. _If it turns out to be a reputable library that I simply haven’t heard of…well then, good luck to Mr. Snicket._

_But if it’s not…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments, you guys! This is a bit of a departure from my usual style, so feedback is very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Jacques made sure the bookmobile door was shut and locked before he phoned his sister.

“Kit? It’s Jacques. Is this a good time?”  
“Fine. So, how’s it going…?”  
“Not bad.”  
“Have you seen the Baudelaires yet? Or the Quagmires?”  
“Only from a distance. They were sitting together at the mandatory pep rally.”  
“Ugh,” groaned Kit. “I don’t know what’s worse, the word ‘pep’ or the word ‘rally’.”  
Jacques grimaced in agreement.

“But what about everything else? Did Nero buy your cover?”  
“Without question. There has been one _slight_ hitch, however…”  
“…Yes?”  
Jacques closed his eyes, gripping the receiver.  
“…I gave my real name.”

“You _what_?”  
“I know, I know…”  
“What _happened_?”  
“I don’t know!” Jacques ran a hand distractedly through his hair.  
“It was all going smoothly, Nero was totally convinced…and then he introduced me to the librarian, and…I don’t know, my brain just short-circuited.”

It took him a few seconds to realize why Kit still hadn’t spoken.  
“…Are you _laughing_?”  
“I’m sorry,” gasped Kit, “I realize it’s serious. But…answer me this. The librarian…she’s pretty, isn’t she?”  
Jacques bristled.  
“She’s…not unattractive…”  
“ _And_ that tells me everything I need to know. Well, you got yourself into this, brother, and I have every faith you’ll get yourself out. Might I suggest, though, that it’s doubly important you stay in this librarian’s good books, now that she knows your real name? Librarians know where to find things…”  
Jacques nodded.  
“Of course. The trouble is, I don’t think she likes me too much to begin with. And I can hardly blame her…”

“Well,” sighed Kit, “you’ll just have to change her mind. Everything’s going well here – I seem to be one step ahead of our enemies.”  
“Excellent.”

Jacques smiled sincerely for the first time in minutes. His sister could be merciless, and annoyingly perceptive, but he’d always be proud of her.

“Alright, well, I’ll go hand out some of those phony membership cards, and then see if I can’t win over the librarian.”  
“Just…try not to mention that you’re part of a secret organization?”  
Jacques rolled his eyes. “I’m hanging up now.”  
“The welfare of orphans is at stake!”  
He heard her snicker before he set down the receiver.

And Kit was teasing, but she was right. So far they’d heard nothing to indicate that the Baudelaires or the Quagmires were in immediate danger…but it was his job to be there, just in case anything changed. It was not a responsibility he took lightly.

_And for exactly that reason, for the sake of this whole mission, it is imperative that I win over Miss Caliban. Why, it’s practically a duty…_

\--

Olivia was shelving books with unseemly and unnecessary vigor. It was satisfying, and went some way towards venting her frustration while also technically getting a job done. Not that her job was so very important, _apparently_.

Mr. Snicket seemed to have charmed the entire school in one fell swoop. All the talk on the way back from the pep rally had been about his arrival, and how soon he might start handing out membership cards. The girls, Olivia noticed, were especially giggly all of a sudden. It was extremely irritating.

Glancing at the clock, Olivia realized that the afternoon was disappearing. If she wanted to get anything in the mail, she would have to be quick.

She was just crossing the room to her adjoining office when there came a knock at the door. If that was the Vice Principal, or Carmelita Spats… Sighing, she went to answer it.

It was Jacques Snicket.

“Miss Caliban,” he smiled. “I thought I’d introduce myself properly. A pep rally is hardly the place for making conversation.”  
“Perhaps not,” Olivia replied. “Though I must say you seemed quite at home there.”  
He did not react to this thinly-veiled barb, but merely shrugged and offered a modest smile.  
“I’ve had some practice addressing crowds.”

To Olivia’s great displeasure, he did not appear to be in any hurry to leave. In fact, he was eyeing the library over her shoulder with interest.

“You have a charming space here. I don’t suppose you’d mind if I had a look around? I like to take a professional interest.”  
He was all politeness; she could think of no valid reason to refuse him.

When she stepped aside, he entered, looking around with what appeared to be sincere interest. All of a sudden she was keenly aware of the aging woodwork, the books’ tattered spines, the library’s general air of faded glory.

“Funding is limited, of course…but I do what I can,” she said defensively, silently daring him to judge her.  
“And you do an admirable job, clearly.”

Olivia gave the smallest smile, so as not to seem ungracious, and quickly busied herself tidying her cart of books.

“Still, I’m sure this is nothing compared to a travelling library funded by wealthy benefactors,” she observed, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.  
“No library is _nothing_ , Miss Caliban.”  
He looked almost shocked.  
“And this one is clearly invaluable. I only wish the world were full of _more_ wealthy benefactors inclined to support literary causes.”  
Olivia pursed her lips. “Well, I can’t disagree with you there.”

“Ah, Bernard Shaw…” Mr. Snicket reached for a well-worn title. “What do you think of his plays, Miss Caliban? _Pygmalion_ has always been my favorite.”  
Olivia blinked. It was her favorite of Shaw’s plays too.

She could feel control of the situation slipping away from her. Why did he have to be so _polite_? It had to be a front; no one who traded in platinum membership cards could really be so sincere in their motives. (Even if they _were_ familiar with Bernard Shaw.)  
What was he after?

“Actually, Mr. Snicket, I really ought to be locking up. I’ve already kept the library open for longer than the Vice Principal’s stipulated ten minutes. I’m sure you understand, as a fellow library professional…”  
“But of course. Thank you very much for your time, Miss Caliban.”  
When he reached the door, he turned and shot her a parting smile.  
“I look forward to further discussions…”  
And with that, he shut the door behind him.

Olivia folded her arms crossly, though she didn’t know whether at Mr. Snicket or at herself. She couldn’t let his amiability distract her from the facts, which were that he and his venture were highly suspicious.

She hurried to her office, and sat down to write out a letter.

_Dear Marietta,_

_I know our interloan system has fallen prey to budget cuts, but I was hoping you might do an old friend a favor…_

_I wonder if you might send me Volume 39, Issue 8 of the Hinterlands Library Journal? I’m particularly interested in the ‘Complete and Exhaustive List of Registered Travelling Libraries’._

_Your help is much appreciated!_

_Yours sincerely,  
Olivia Caliban_


	3. Chapter 3

By the end of Jacques’ first day at Prufrock, nearly every student had obtained a membership card. And that, apparently, was all they wanted. It was certainly all Carmelita Spats was interested in, though she viciously elbowed her way to the front of the line.

Not one student had given the interior of the bookmobile more than a cursory glance. Jacques was about to close it up for the day and rig himself up a hammock between the two shelves, when there came a polite knock on the door.

“Mr. Snicket? Is the bookmobile still open?”

Jacques turned to see five children peering round the door. The Baudelaires, and the Quagmires. He smiled, a warm rush of relief washing over him at the sight of them.

“It certainly is. I suppose you five are after membership cards?”  
Violet nodded. “Yes please. And we’d like to browse your selection, if there’s still time.”  
“You want to look at the _books_?” Jacques’ eyes twinkled. “How astonishing.”

Smiling, the children came up the steps. Klaus looked as though only politeness was keeping him from seizing a book from the shelf immediately. That was Beatrice’s son, all right…

“Now, what names should I be putting on these new cards?”  
He pulled some from his pocket and reached for a pen.  
“I’m Violet Baudelaire, and these are my siblings Klaus and Sunny. I can spell those names for you, if you’d like.”  
Jacques smiled. “I think I’ve got it. And you two are…?”  
“Duncan Quagmire.”  
“Isadora Quagmire. We’re triplets.”  
She said that almost defensively, as though she expected resistance. Jacques took care to keep his face sober and respectful.  
“I did notice the resemblance. Well, I’ll get these cards sorted for you, and in the meantime, feel free to browse the shelves.”

As the children gravitated towards shelves that matched their respective interests, Jacques glanced up from his writing and smiled. This mission was going to go just fine.

\--

The following day found Olivia in her library as usual. She was restless; she knew it would be sometime before she could expect a reply to her letter. (The postal service could be called many things, but speedy was not one of them.)

Olivia whiled away the morning until, at the designated time, she went to open the library. She unlocked the door and swung it open, to find not the usual empty corridor, but a small line of people waiting to come in.

Violet, Klaus, Sunny, Isadora, Duncan, and…Jacques Snicket.

For a moment, she was speechless. Duncan stifled a laugh.

“Hello, Miss Caliban,” Violet smiled brightly. “May we come in?”  
“O-of course,” Olivia managed, juggling her keys so as to manoeuvre the door handle. “But…you can’t usually visit on a Friday. Your timetables…?”  
Klaus beamed as he filed past her. “Mr. Snicket wrote us all hall passes,” he explained.

Olivia gaped, and then closed her mouth quickly as Jacques Snicket approached her.  
“I didn’t realise he had the authority.”  
Jacques only smiled modestly, and shrugged.  
“It _is_ a little presumptuous of me, I know. But the Vice Principal had no objections, once I upgraded his membership card. And I thought, just for these very important ten minutes…”

She couldn’t honestly object…and he knew it. Blast him, going and making her feel _grateful_ towards him. What was he doing there, anyway? He had books of his own.

She followed them all back inside, trying to maintain an appearance of cool professionalism. (This proved utterly useless, under the circumstances. The children’s glee was infectious.)

Walking dazedly back to her desk, Olivia stared around her suddenly-occupied library. Violet was explaining to Duncan the significance of a renowned engineer’s discoveries, as the two of them poured over her biography. Klaus was in the middle of an animated discussion with Jacques – something about Tolstoy, apparently? And Isadora was eagerly approaching the desk.

“Miss Caliban? I’m done with Shelley. I think I like him even more than Keats.” She set the book down on the desk. “Who would you recommend next?”  
Olivia smiled; she couldn’t help it.   
“Well… Have you ever heard of Christina Rossetti?”

\--

It became a habit. Every day when Olivia unlocked the door, the same six people would be waiting. By the end of the first week, Klaus was joking they should form a club.

And Jacques couldn’t deny he was enjoying himself. Of course, these library visits were _primarily_ about the mission; about getting to know the children, and earning their trust. It was mere coincidence that this also gave him an excuse to visibly read great works of literature in Miss Caliban’s line of sight.

She was…remarkable. Well-read, efficient, passionate about her work. She obviously cared a great deal for the children.

She was also terribly clever. That probably should have concerned him more than it did, given Kit’s warnings – but as things stood, he could only admire her. Increasingly.

\--

The rhythm of her days was so different now, Olivia almost slipped out of her habit of checking the mail. Each day now revolved entirely around those ten shining minutes in which she got to be a real librarian. The children were getting through so _many_ books, now that they had daily access; Olivia was going to need to re-ink her stamps.

And as much as she remained wary of Jacques Snicket – as much as it was frustrating that Nero listened to Jacques as he’d _never_ listened to her – she couldn’t help softening slightly towards him. After all, he’d used Nero’s inclination to like him to the children’s advantage; making sure they could access not just one library, but two. That wasn’t something she could hold against him, was it?

The day the package arrived, Olivia was actually whistling. She had just shepherded the children and Jacques out of the library, in the face of much pleading and a convoluted argument about the nature of time from Klaus. (All of it came down to “five more minutes?”) It was very flattering, if she was honest.

So it was only by chance that her gaze caught on the parcel in her in-tray. Wrapped in brown paper, about the size of a slim book or a journal… Marietta must’ve sent it! Olivia unwrapped the parcel quickly, not even bothering to read her friend’s note – trying not to notice the nervous twisting in her gut. She _did_ want to know…didn’t she? Maybe her suspicions had been ill-founded…

She turned to page 82, to the ‘Complete and Exhaustive List of Registered Travelling Libraries’, and ran her finger down the column.

 _Hinterlands Bookmobile_ … _Levi Bohm Memorial Travelling Library_ …

Of course, the list was alphabetical, so she couldn’t expect Vehicular Fiction Delivery to be right at the top…

But then she was at the X’s, and the name still hadn’t appeared. Her stomach felt like lead.

So, Jacques Snicket _wasn’t_ a travelling librarian. He was a liar. And possibly some kind of con-artist.

She had almost been duped. In spite of her instincts, she had almost fallen for a charming smile and apparent kindness to children. She didn’t know if she was more disappointed in him, or in herself.

At the sound of distant footsteps, she looked up. The outline of Vice Principal Nero was visible through the frosted glass, as he plodded past down the hallway. She squared her shoulders and hastened to catch him.

“Vice Principal Nero!” she called, the moment she’d stuck her head into the hall.   
He turned. “What is it, Miss Caliban?”  
“I’ve got something here that you might find very interesting. Something about Mr. Snicket’s travelling library.”

Nero looked unimpressed; the way he usually looked whenever his gaze fell on her.  
“Well…where is it?”  
“It’s…” Olivia looked down at her hands, realizing that in her haste she’d neglected to take the journal with her. “It’s in my office.”  
“I don’t have time at the moment,” Nero huffed. “Bring it to me in _my_ office, if you must.”

Olivia watched him go, anger and disappointment churning inside her. She _would_ show Nero that list, if she had to chase him all over the school – and it would serve Jacques Snicket right. She hurried back to her office, and snatched up the journal in both hands.

Olivia was perhaps halfway to Nero’s office when something brought her up short. Around the next corner, it sounded as though…as though a child was crying. And the _other_ voice – the one offering comfort – was warm and deep and by now all too familiar.

_Jacques Snicket?_


	4. Chapter 4

Olivia stood concealed around the corner, trying to keep her breathing hushed. In her haste to bring the incriminating journal to Nero, she had nearly walked in on…what? Why had one of the children been crying?

She listened.

“There you go… No, you keep the handkerchief. I’ve got others.”  
There was warmth and sympathy in Jacques’ voice.  
“Now, once you’re ready...do you think you could tell me what’s wrong?”  
There was a sniffle, and another, younger voice spoke up. It was Duncan.

“It’s silly, really. It’s this.”   
There was a pause, as though he was holding out an object for inspection.  
“It was always Quigley’s favorite. Our brother. I thought reading it again would make him feel closer, like he wasn’t really gone, but…but…”  
His voice wobbled again, and broke. Olivia’s heart ached for the poor boy.

“It’s strange, isn’t it, how little it takes to bring back old memories. For me, it’s the smell of burn cream, and camomile tea.”   
There was a moment’s pause, and then Jacques added, “My family was quite unusual.”  
Duncan gave a watery laugh, and sniffed again.

“Do you think you’re feeling alright to go on to class?”  
“I think so…” Duncan’s tone was suddenly nervous. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”  
“I wouldn’t dream of it. But, you know, there’s no shame in crying. Any time you need to talk, you know where to find me.”  
She could hear the smile in Duncan’s voice. “Thanks, Mr. Snicket.”

A few moments later, the sound of their footsteps had fallen away. Olivia stood rooted to the spot, long after the need for concealment had ended.

He was kind. He was genuinely _kind_ , not just charming when it suited. What benefit had there been for him in comforting Duncan? Nothing – at least, nothing self-centred. She looked down at the journal in her hands.

The fact of his deception remained… But she _couldn’t_ turn him in to Nero. Not now.

Olivia walked back towards her library in a daze. Life at Prufrock Prep had suddenly gotten very complicated. She was so distracted that she didn’t see Vice Principal Nero until she had almost walked right into him.

“Ah, Miss Caliban.”  
She jumped.   
“I got waylaid talking to Mrs. Bass,” Nero explained. “Is that what you wanted to give me?”  
He pointed to the journal in her hands.

Panic flared up inside her. Could she trust that he would simply get bored, and fail to notice that Jacques’ bookmobile wasn’t mentioned? No, even with Nero that was too much of a risk. But then how could she possibly avoid handing the journal over?  

“Vice Principal Neerooo!”

Never before had Olivia been _glad_ to see Carmelita Spats. Deciding at once what to do, she seized the opportunity of a moment. While Carmelita monopolized the Vice Principal’s attention – asking for more polish on those abominable tap shoes – Olivia turned so that her body blocked her actions from view. Then, offering up a silent apology to all fellow librarians living and dead, she tore page 82 neatly out of the journal.

When she turned back around, Nero was still beaming down at the vile little girl. Olivia hoped her face wouldn’t betray her; she’d never deliberately damaged a book before in her _life_! But thankfully, Nero’s attention remained on Carmelita. He took the journal almost without looking at her, and waved a half-hearted goodbye.

The second she could do so without attracting attention, Olivia scurried back to her library and locked the door. She stared down at the torn page in her hands.

What had she been _thinking_? She’d have to tell Marietta that the journal had met with some kind of accident. She would reimburse her, of course.

Olivia folded the incriminating page and slipped it into her blouse. She’d have to ponder on what all this meant, sometime when her nerves weren’t so in turmoil. In the meantime, she could really do with a calming cup of tea.

\--

The first time she saw Jacques Snicket after that, Olivia hardly knew how to behave around him. How did you suddenly start being nice to someone you’d been distant with before?

He must have noticed the change in her demeanour towards him, however, because one day he sought her out at lunch.

Olivia made it a point never to eat in the cafeteria. Quite aside from being only questionably-hygienic, the place was miserable. She much preferred to sit outside, with a lunchbox of fruit and sandwiches, and of course a book. Her usual bench was not far from where Jacques’s bookmobile was parked – and though this had annoyed her at first, now it only made her curious.

If he wasn’t a travelling librarian, what _was_ he? Perhaps he was in law-enforcement. He did have the physique… (Not that she’d noticed. Much.) Perhaps he was a private investigator, sent by Julliard to see that Nero’s restraining order was obeyed. Or perhaps he was an undercover education officer, evaluating the school in secret…

Olivia was still staring at the bookmobile, lost in speculation, when the man himself appeared round the side of his vehicle. She quickly averted her eyes, not wanting to be caught staring. She continued pretending not to see him until he’d strolled right up to her bench.

“Miss Caliban,” he smiled, as she looked up. “Mind if I join you?”  
Olivia shuffled to make space for him on the bench. “You don’t take lunch in the cafeteria either?”  
Jacques smirked. “When I could be out here, beneath these beautiful trees?”  
They both looked at the bedraggled, half-dead oak tree opposite, and a second later started to laugh. It was a relief, Olivia realized, to have another adult acknowledge just how dreary a place Prufrock was.

“So…I hope you don’t mind the way the children and I have been monopolizing your ten minutes.”  
“How could I mind? That’s what I’m here for. Anyway, they’re wonderful children.” Olivia smiled. “I know I’m not _supposed_ to have favorites, but…”  
Jacques snorted. “Tell that to the Vice Principal! The way he fawns over Carmelita Spats…”  
Olivia rolled her eyes.  
“Don’t get me started. Actually…” She paused in remembering, and laughed. “Isadora came up with a couplet about her; she told me a month ago, when she was rereading Ogden Nash. I think it went: _I would rather eat a bowl of vampire bats / Than spend an hour with Carmelita Spats._ ”  
Jacques threw his head back and laughed; a warm, deep laugh that did unexpected things to her stomach.  
“That girl is a natural,” he grinned, shaking his head in amusement.

Olivia fidgeted slightly.  
“I’ve been meaning to ask… Does your bookmobile exclusively hold fiction? I mean, given that the service is called ‘Vehicular Fiction Delivery’…?”  
Jacques shook his head. “No, in fact we hold a range of non-fiction and reference materials. I suppose we should have been called ‘Vehicular Folio Delivery’…but then, that has an antiquated feel…” He shrugged. “I’ll have to take it up with my bosses.”

Olivia smiled politely, trying not to look too obviously curious. Why did the second word need to start with an F, anyway?

“Well,” she smiled, mostly joking, “if you ever feel your collection could do with some new titles, we could always set up an interloan system between us.”  
Jacques raised an eyebrow. “Your Melville for my Rousseau?”  
She tried not to laugh, and pretended to consider.   
“I’m sure we could come to some kind of arrangement.”

It was at this point that Olivia registered what her fluttering stomach had been trying to tell her for some minutes; she was swapping literary jokes with a tall, handsome man.

It was suddenly very important that she look down at her lap.

“Well, Miss Caliban, I suppose I should be on my way.”  
Seeing him get to his feet, she panicked slightly. She hadn’t been trying to dismiss him.  
“You know, you can call me Olivia.”  
He smiled, warmly.  
“And you can call me Jacques.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tearing-the-page-from-the-journal bit comes straight from 'The Music Man', FYI. 
> 
> And we'll get some of Jacques' perspective next chapter, don't worry! Thanks for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please leave a comment? I'd love to know what you think!


End file.
